


And The Rest Is Silence

by Echo (Lyrecho)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Gen, Oneshot, endgame spoilers, more compliant to headcanon than canon, niflheim worldbuilding, related to |we're a broken people|
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 13:50:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8919529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrecho/pseuds/Echo
Summary: Because Aranea was smart and clever and always right, to say nothing of how the Chancellor was someone who didn’t care about subtlety – she wasn’t actually all that surprised when the runaway prince of Lucis and his band of merry men showed up at the entrance to the ruins she had been guarding for hours, all of them looking about as tired and annoyed as she felt, covered in mud and sweat.

  Well. A day of walking through marshes and fighting monsters will do that to you, she supposed.
Aranea Highwind was raised in Niflheim; raised loyal, a soldier. She was raised smart, too - and when she recognises something in Prompto, she won't let go of that suspicion - not until she's been proven right. |Tumblr| |Twitter|





	

**Author's Note:**

> um. so. this is a scene that was meant to take place in both wabp and tloes, but @noct-noct-whothere (my fandom enabler) convinced me to post it now and just rework the idea of it for those fics.
> 
> well. they just said 'do it.' i already wanted to do it.
> 
> ...i have no impulse control.
> 
> since the initial idea for these scenes came from two aus, the lore of it doesn't really comply to canon, though i don't go in depth enough for that to be noticeable. i'd still recommend you go read my other fics though.
> 
> not because you need to read them to understand this...just because they're great. so. go and read them. and comment, too. please.

When the Chancellor himself called Aranea up, she knew it wasn’t for a casual chat, or just by chance that _she_ was the one he went to, out of anyone else running among Niflheim’s military brass. He’d long ago passed up the chance to have any sort of _real_ power in the running of the army, and while there were likely many who would cut off their own limbs to gain the man’s favour (they all knew who was _really_ the force behind Niflheim; the Emperor hadn’t been right in the mind for _years_ ), Izunia already had built in blackmail on her, and as much as she didn’t _like_ helping him out, she also really liked having her head on her shoulders. It was a liveable compromise.

“Commodore Aranea Highwind,” he said, voice crackling through the static on the line, ever present since the deaths of three of the Six played havoc with the atmosphere more and more, her full title drawn out and enough to make her lips curl into a snarl at the way he twisted the syllables of her name. As it was, she couldn’t fight the shudder. The man was smarmy as hell. “I have a job that requires your immediate attention! You _must_ come meet me at Steyliff Grove, at once!”

Aranea pulled her phone away from her ear to stare at it, briefly, wishing Izunia could see the _look_ she was giving him. “That old ruin?” she said. “ _Why?”_

“I have some new recruits that need training,” he answered, a blatant lie. Izunia _couldn’t_ have new recruits. Regardless of the fact that everyone knew who was running the empire, Izunia had – for whatever crazy reason that made sense only in his own twisted mind – kept to the promises he had made back when the Emperor was still at least a facsimile of a person; namely, that he wouldn’t interfere with the military. He’d never bothered before, so why would he now?

Aranea held back her scoff, and simply rolled her eyes as she gestured at Biggs and Wedge, positioned in seats at the front of her personal ship, leaning over the backs of their chairs and watching her with blatant curiosity, to get them into the air. “I’ll be there soon,” she said, and slid their phone call to an end with a single swipe of a finger.

“What was that about, Lady A?” Biggs gave her a concerned look as she walked up to stand beside their chairs.

“Our fair Chancellor has a mission for us,” she stated dryly. “Make course for Steyliff Grove.”

Biggs shook his head. “I don’t know why you pay so much attention to what he says, Lady A,” he said, but did as she had told him to – looking away just in time to miss the way she stiffened, hand briefly and automatically raising to brush against her wrist – her codeprints, hidden beneath the gauntlets she always wore.

-x-

Because Aranea was smart and clever and _always right_ , to say nothing of how the Chancellor was someone who didn’t care about subtlety – she wasn’t actually all that surprised when the runaway prince of Lucis and his band of merry men showed up at the entrance to the ruins she had been guarding for _hours_ , all of them looking about as tired and annoyed as she felt, covered in mud and sweat.

Well. A day of walking through marshes and fighting monsters will do that to you, she supposed.

And even if she _hadn’t_ already known His Royal Highness was alive, courtesy of him introducing her face to the concrete of Fort Valluerey in one of the best fights she’d had in years – she still probably wouldn’t have been all that surprised to see a supposed dead man walking in front of her, face pinched with a distaste she knew all too well; it just _happened_ when one spent enough time around Izunia. The Lucian prince’s survival of his Crown City was, quite possibly, Niflheim’s second worst kept open secret, next to the true power and influence of the Chancellor himself. Everyone knew Prince Noctis was alive. He and his buddies hadn’t exactly tried to _hide_ it, what with their driving of their royal car and their wearing of their royal clothes and their _very public hunting_.

No, the only surprise Aranea felt was the fact that, for whatever reason, the Chancellor was ‘aiding’ them.

Well, whatever. She was getting paid; didn’t matter much to her.

She smirked at the prince as he stepped forward, both wary and weary as he glared at her, cutely. Like a puppy.

“So, _you’re_ the ‘new recruits’ being sent over for ‘training.’” She said, and laughed inside as several confused looks were sent her way. “Nice cover, runaway prince.”

He sent a few looks over his shoulder, to his buddies – like, _can you believe this chick?_ But Aranea didn’t have to long to enjoy His Royal Highness’s disbelief, because his blond friend spoke up at that moment.

“Thanks,” he said, and his voice was chipper enough as he smiled that Aranea was momentarily blindsided.

“Oh _come on_.” The prince’s tone was the definition of exasperation as he threw his hands up in the air and stared at his friend – the blond, looking even more exhausted then the other two and pale in a sickly sort of way as he squinted at the prince, wincing away from the remaining daylight as it set, orange and blinding as it sank below the horizon, merely shrugged.

“Well, it’s nearly nightfall,” she said, and _thank the Six for that_. Technically a surviving member of the ‘second generation’ experiments for proto-MT’s, Aranea’s sensitivity to daylight and the weakening effects it had on her weren’t as strong as they were for genuine MT’s, or had been for the ‘first gen’ prototypes – but enough chaos still flowed through her body, ripped from daemons and implanted into her, that she felt safer, _stronger_ , moving around in darkness, fighting under the cover of night. “Since I’m being paid to escort you, we’ll all be able to head in together soon.”

She smiled balefully as the prince gritted his teeth in anger. Behind him, specs sighed, and the blond seemed too exhausted and out of it to really care.

As the three of them were now, they wouldn’t last a minute alone in those ruins. They really should have been _glad_ Aranea was there to pick up their slack for them.

They don’t believe her when she tells them the ruins won’t open until true dark, likely just out of principle – but even they can’t make the truth untrue just by pouting, and so they admit defeat and hang back to recover some energy from their trek through the marsh while they wait.

Aranea watched the three of them curiously, making no move to hide her blatant staring, even when the prince shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. So, sue her. She was interested in them – they’d obviously come for mythril, but for what, she didn’t know, and why the Chancellor was helping them…likely _they_ didn’t know that, either, but that fact didn’t make her any less curious; quite the opposite in fact.

The sun finally sank below the horizon, the last rays of daylight drowning in the absolute black of the night that surrounded the wildlands of Steyliff Grove, untainted and unpolluted by civilisation and the artificial light humans brought everywhere with them. Aranea relaxed, almost visibly, every muscle in her body letting go of the constant stress and mild pain daylight brought to her senses, even though the night was not always so forgiving itself – even now, just as dark was beginning to set in, the chaos within her stirred happily and her little chorus of screamers began to whisper; she’d be hunting tonight, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad come morning, but even if she sated their bloodlust the souls, corrupted by daemons, that lurked in the back of her mind were never silent, except when the light of the sun kept them locked away.

And it was because of this focus of hers – her unwavering, unbreaking stare, fixed on the prince and his entourage – that she noticed it.

The blond one – the one that had seemed so harried and uncaring under the light of the setting sun – he breathed a sigh of what Aranea could only call relief, slumping down from his tense seat as darkness flooded around them. He started as the other two, prince and specs, flicked on the flashlights they had clipped to their shirts, and was a minute late to turn his on, too, blinking at his friends in a way that told Aranea he could see quite clearly where they were, even in the dark.

A suspicion formed in the back of her mind, and – even though it was crazy – her eyes narrowed.

-x-

A little fact Aranea felt needed to be reiterated: she was a genius, and she was _always right_.

She’d kept an eye on the blond as they crept ever and ever deeper into the ruins, and marvelled at how quickly he could flip from cool and casual to highly strung – shooting bullets with incredible precision while barely aiming, a look of intense focus on his face that she probably would have found hot if it had been directed at _her_ in any other situation; pulling his camera out mid battle to capture a shot ‘he thought looked cool’ like a man possessed and uncaring of his own wellbeing, basically being the epitome of surprisingly badass.

And then, on the flipside, he freaked at the smallest of things, and screamed at a higher pitch than Aranea thought _herself_ capable of.

Okay, so, the look was hot, he had some promise – so long as he kept his mouth shut.

He caught the predatory grin she sent his way, and gulped as he blushed furiously and looked down at his camera, thumbing through the shots he had taken in a way that meant he was either trying to look like he was doing something – anything – else, or that he could see the screen and everything on it clearly in the pitch black dark of the underground (and possibly underwater, _what the hell_ ) ruins, since his own personal flashlight had run out of batteries a while back, a few floors above.

And since he eventually slowed down on how fast he was flicking through pics, tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth as he began to actually _pay attention_ to what he’d snapped – Aranea could only conclude that it was the latter, and that aroused her suspicions all the more.

She glanced over at the prince and specs – they were talking in low tones as they rested against one of the more solid blocks of rubble scattered about. They’d cleared out this area of daemons and it would be a while before more broke through the chaos Aranea could _taste_ hung ambient in this place, so they’d decided to take a rest before moving on.

They had to be done before sunrise, true, or they’d be stuck down in the ruins until the next night – but since they were already taking a break, Aranea felt confident in doing what she did next.

“Hey, blondie,” she called out, and his gaze jerked up from his camera to seek her out unerringly – she hadn’t spoken that loud, and she was standing away, in a corner in the dark. He knew straight away that he’d done something wrong, something to give himself away – he froze, face fixed, likely taking in her triumphant smirk as he all but _slammed_ another nail into his own coffin.

He cast a wary glance his companion’s way – they didn’t even look up. They hadn’t heard Aranea, even though they had been closer to her; he gulped as he slunk his way to the corner she had perched herself in.

“Uh – what is it, Aranea?” He asked, laughing a bit and trying for casual in a way she _just couldn’t buy_.

But, she was never one for subtlety, and the point of this wasn’t to make him suffer, scare him to death, or push him to the point where he thought the best way to keep his secret was to administer a bullet direct to her head – enhanced though she may be, at this range even she was likely to die, especially if he _was_ what she was beginning to suspect he was.

So, she just jumped straight into her questions, head first. “You’re one of the first generation, aren’t you?” she asked.

He paled. Aranea could tell that, even in the low light, her enhanced vision picking up on every nuance of his face as he blanched, blood draining out of his cheeks and jaw clenching as his eyes hardened.

Poor thing. Aranea was older than him, definitely – the first generation of proto-MT’s had been the ones enhanced (or infected, take your pick) since utero, born and _made_ the way they were. The second generation, _Aranea’s_ generation – they had been orphans and foundling children, picked up off the street – the answer to Niflheim’s next great question, after the first gen had worked: _what if the chaos was introduced to those who had already been born, and grown_.

And because she was older than him, because she could see the youth and the only just recently grown into lankiness leftover from teenage years – she felt the need to reassure him in some way. So, she flicked a quick glance the way of the prince and the other guy, and when she saw that they were still wrapped up in their own conversation still, moved to pull one of her gauntlets off.

Blondie’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of her codeprints – mouthed the sequence of numbers and letter silently to himself, and made to reach out for her wrist. He paused, midway, and she held her arm out encouragingly.

“They’re real, I swear,” she said, and felt a shiver run down her spine as electricity skittered across her skin where his fingers grazed her pale wrist, over and around her codeprints – it had been so long since that skin had been touched by _anything_ other than the leather and steel of her gauntlets, it was a strange sensation to know that was _someone else’s_ hand tracing patterns over her arm.

There was a sort of wonder in blondie’s face as he stared down at her codeprints, his mind clearly a million miles away – and so caught up in the moment of melancholy, silent camaraderie had they both been, they didn’t even _notice_ the other two break out of their conversation and begin to head in their direction, not even with their enhanced senses.

“What is this?” The prince sounded amused, as both Aranea and blondie flinched away from the white beam of light that suddenly swung their way; blondie raising his hands to cover sensitive eyes and Aranea moving quickly to cover up her codeprints now that his hands were no longer covering them. “Some sort of bizarre courting ritual?”

“Shut _up,_ Noct.” Swiftly, blondie moved away from Aranea and towards his two friends – something she was grateful for, because the light swung away with him and she was free to slip her gauntlet back on and click it into place before they could even get so much as a _glimpse_ at her codeprints.

“Only in blondie’s wildest dreams,” she laughed as she launched herself down to land beside them - swinging an arm over the blond’s shoulders and scooping up his camera just in time to capture a startled selfie before he could push her away. “I do have _some_ taste, you know.”

-|O|-

“Shut _up_ ,” Prompto muttered – and whereas, once upon a time, the others would have commented on him talking to himself as he poked at the fire, now there was only silence. Ignis sat in his chair, still and unable to see, even if he _could_ hear – he had no way of knowing if Prompto really was talking to himself, or if he was snarling at one of the others. If the latter _had_ been the case, it wouldn’t have been all that strange, really – not with the way tensions had been running high and Gladio and Noct had been constantly at each other’s throats, when they were not being silent and completely ignoring not only one another, but everyone around them, too.

Noct glanced his way briefly as he hissed, but soon enough looked away once more, his attention fading as he lost himself within his own grief, staring down at his clasped hands with his head bowed; no different than he had been every night since they had left Altissia.

Gladio…Gladio was off _somewhere,_ Prompto knew, and he would be close by, too – but since they’d booked their train tickets and then gone out hunting for the sake of earning gil before they didn’t get any more chances once they headed for Cartanica and the royal tomb there, and then Gralea beyond that – he’d hung around during the day to help kill monsters, and when they’d taken night hunts for stronger monsters or even daemons – but once they’d made camp, he’d inevitably wonder off, to do…something. Somewhere.

Prompto didn’t know, but he was all but ready to _scream_.

And not only because of the way his friends were acting – he honestly couldn’t blame them all that much; Noctis was grieving and Ignis was wounded like nothing any of them had ever experienced before and Gladio was suffering right alongside them – but because of the fact that the nights were growing longer.

He hadn’t even noticed it at first – just known that the screams and whispers in the back of his mind were growing louder and louder and that even cutting down monsters didn’t quiet them as it used to. And then, on the radio, two days ago, before they’d headed out here, to what he could only call _wastelands_ – “meteorologists have noted that days have been growing unseasonably shorter…”

And it was then that he had realised – ever since Altissia, since…Lady Lunafreya…he’d been feeling that sensation. That sensation of his body not being his own, of eyes and breath always on him and spiders crawling down his back.

He hadn’t figured out a way to bring it up to the others, not yet – not when they were all so wrapped up in their own thoughts and he just felt _awkward_ trying to bring anything else up – but he would _have_ to, eventually…

And before they reached Gralea…maybe it was time to tell them some other things, too.

“Well, aren’t you a gloomy bunch.”

With a yelp, Prompto almost fell into the fire he was stoking – another reason to dislike the longer nights; with the voices of the chaos so loud in his head, he couldn’t hear anything more than what most normal people could – possibly even _less_ , he had no way of knowing.

Either way, the surprise then was, quite possibly, the only good one he’d had in forever. “Aranea!” he smiled as he whirled around, and yes, that was definitely her – dressed as she usually was with Biggs and Wedge hovering over her shoulders – looking kind of awkward, as if they’d rather be anywhere but there.

“Hey, blondie,” she greeted, the smirk he’d come to know well after all the times she had just _airdropped_ herself into fights against daemons they’d found themselves in before leaving for Altissia still present on her face, even if their smiles had gone. It was nice to know some things didn’t change. As Prompto waved at Biggs and Wedge, whom nodded stoically back, Aranea’s gaze roved over the other two seated by the fire. “Well, aren’t you all looking lively,” she commented, and Noctis sucked in a hissing breath through his teeth.

“Do you mind _shutting up_ , Aranea?” He snapped, and for a moment she looked startled by his short tone – before realisation, and then pity, crossed her face.

“Oh, sure,” she said easily. “I’m not here to talk to _you_ , anyway.” She looked directly at Prompto as she said this, something urgent – and almost _scared_ – in her eyes.

The brief flash of anger that had roused Noctis out of his slump faded quickly, like a sparkler in the summer and like every emotion his best friend had expressed lately, and he didn’t even make so much as a move to show that he had heard or registered what Aranea had said.

“Uh – sure,” Prompto said, and brushed his hands against his pants as he stood. “I’ll be back in a minute, is that okay, Ignis?”

Ignis was frowning, but he nodded – likely because he thought Prompto would be safe with Aranea – and Aranea dispelled the last of Prompto’s own uneasy concerns about leaving two of the most currently dysfunctional members of the group behind on their own by saying, “Biggs and Wedge will stay here while we chat, hold down the fort.”

Her men grimaced at this – and Wedge had a frown playing about his lips; both of them clearly concerned for Aranea – but with two synchronized salutes, they sat by the fire and stared at the flames with a brooding stare Noctis would have been proud of, if he’d had the presence of mind to care.

“C’mon, blondie.” Aranea made an impatient gesture as she began to walk away from the campsite, and while Prompto would have usually made an effort to grab for a torch so as not to raise the suspicions of the others – well. Noctis was paying absolutely no attention to _anything_ , Gladio wasn’t there at all, and Ignis…

He hurried to catch up with Aranea as she stalked off, able to pick up on dips and rocks in the ground as he jogged into the darkness of the open plains after her.

“Aranea,” he said, once she had stopped and he noted uneasily that they were far enough away from the camp that the fire was just a golden beacon in the distance. “What’s wrong?”

Now that they were away from the camp, and from the others, it was much clearer to Prompto just how _tense_ Aranea was. More than that, just how _scared_ she was. It was normal to see Aranea with one arm across her stomach, gripping the other arm with her hand – but she seemed almost as if she was _hugging_ herself.

“…the nights,” Aranea said, and there was hesitance in her voice. “They’ve started getting longer, have you heard?”

“Yeah,” Prompto said. “I’ve…felt it, too.”

Aranea swallowed hard, and nodded. “I – I need you to look at something for me,” she said, and turned her back towards him.

“…okay?” Prompto said. “Just what do you want me to –” He froze, words choking in his throat as Aranea reached up to unclasp her helm…and then, travelling lower, to pull off her shirt.

At first, he didn’t look – he had no idea what Aranea was _thinking_ , but he wasn’t suicidal enough to watch as she _stripped_ – but after she made an impatient noise, he gave a quick peek – and then _stared_.

“Oh, Aranea,” he said, his voice shaking. “I am so _sorry_.”

She shuddered – the lines and muscles of her back tensing. “I was hoping maybe I’d imagined it,” she said. “It’s not exactly like I could ask Biggs or Wedge for confirmation.” She let out a bitter laugh, her clothes pooling around her waist as her body shook, near tears, and Prompto stepped forward to touch at the delicate patterns of scales that were scattered across Aranea’s back.

“I always knew mutating was a possibility,” she said. “I just always thought…I’d be one of those stupid spider bitches, not a naga.” She paused to shake her head. “I hate nagas.”

“Me, too,” Prompto agreed fervently, hand still on Aranea’s back, leaning forward to pick up more on the details of her scales. They were the same pale violet-blue of the naga daemons, and blended almost seamlessly into the skin of Aranea’s back. “This happened when the nights started getting longer?” He asked for confirmation.

She nodded. “It’s like daylight has become less and less effective at keeping them down,” she said. “They – they never shut up now, not at night, at least.”

Prompto nodded his agreement, and it was then that Aranea shrugged his hand off, and slowly pulled her clothes back on. “I hope this doesn’t happen to you, Prompto,” she said sombrely as she turned around to face him.

Faintly, he smiled. “Hey,” he said. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever used my actual name.”

She snorted out a laugh. “Don’t get used to it, blondie.” She sighed. “I’m heading back to the ship,” she said. “Send Biggs and Wedge after me, would you?”

Prompto stared at her. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright?”

That familiar smirk was fixed on her face once more. “Damn straight,” she said. “I’ve faced worse than this before.”

Prompto nodded. “Sometimes, all you can do is keep on keeping on,” he said.

“I will if you will,” Aranea promised. “Don’t let His Royal Grumpiness get you down.”

Prompto shook his head. “I’ll see you around, Aranea,” he said, and offered her his hand.

She was smiling as she took it.


End file.
